I think sometimes, people don’t really believe me about what a horror shit show my life can be…. Like, as if I make it up for humor. Listen people (listen, read? Idunno) you don’t make shit like this up unless you are craaayyyyy I mean like octomom, astronut, cray.
So I have been tied up this week (whoa, not literally, but you know, like busy, I’m not into that shit) in 2 huge projects. One personal, one professional (wait, is it a project if it is personal? Or just like a thing? Idunno). Both draining. Normally, I can take this shit and run with it. The ex-husband formally known as Mr. Nara (Mr.Nara 1.0?) use to say I was the least emotional / sentimental person in the world. Partially true (it is hard to be like “Yep, that’s me” because there has GOT to be someone who is less sentimental than I am). Anyholla.
The combination of early mornings, late nights and not having a clear direction on where I am going in either of these “projects” may have totally fucking gotten to me just a teenie bit. Wednesday, I am driving peewee into school, and remember that I forgot something. Shit, what did I forget? Oh! His backpack….. So, we turn around and head back to the ole homestead. I leave the car running while I run inside and actually think to myself “Wow, self, that is LOUD.” Then drive off into the sunset. There is no sunset in the morning, FYI, I made that up.
Then, well, then there was yesterday. Again, dat bitch (my car) was totally fucking PMS’ing…. But, hello, I had places to go. I got through my normal daily routine, ja know, napping at work and surfing the interwebs until it is time to go home…… I can’t type express enough, HOW long of a week I have had at this point (Thursday). I am just looking forward to going home and eating. And by “eating” I mean drinking.
So, I am jamming out, when all of the sudden, I realize something smells. But imma like “Weird, smells like someone’s car is on fire.” BECAUSE CLEARLY IT ISN’T MINE. It actually was mine. So there I am in the middle of the road (road? Highway? What do we call it when there are four lanes, separated by those dividers? Rural Route?) when I realize it actually is, in fact, my car.
In my typical fashion of being JUST sedated enough, I freak the fuck out. I am in the middle of the Rural Route and don’t know what to do…. I am not a lot of things…. For example, I am not tall. Likewise, I am NOT a fucking gearhead. When I turned 16, my dad said “Pretty princess Nara do you know how to change a tire?” And Imma like “Fuck no” “Nope” and he handed me a AAA card and said “That is how you change a tire.” And really, that is me…. I am not afraid to get dirty, to hammer shit out (omg, that actually sounds dirty, but I don’t mean it to be, I mean like, I am good with a hammer) but I just DON’T do cars.
So, I somehow get my smoking car (that has every light I knew about and a few bonus lights on at this point) into a parking lot. Meanwhile, some dick gave me the finger as I almost hit him and I was ready to get out of my busted up SUV and be like “FUCK YOU SPARKLE TITS” but I didn’t. I call AAA, it goes like this.
Me: Imma need someone to come get this car
AAA: What’s wrong?
Me: Yea, I have no fucking clue
AAA: Ok honey (legit) can you tell me what happened
Me: It made some really loud noises this week, I have been so busy, I just turned up Pitbull’s new song because that’s mah jam, then it smoked, not like smoked a cig, but had smoke coming out of it and then it died. Bitch died.
AAA: Ok, we will send a tow truck
So at that point, I couldn’t even help it, I started to cry. Listen, I am NOT a crier. I have been through things and seen things that have made me who I am and part of “me” is that I don’t do that shit. Welp, there I was, at the corner of Highland and Swampscott Rural Route, sitting on the dirty sidewalk in all white, crying. I should mention, I am a fucking ugly crier. I am not like a movie star crier, I am legit ugs. But this was the car that we throw little people through the sunroof when I lock myself out, and that we karaoke in while driving on the wrong side of the road, and sometimes the minis drive (only when I have had too much to drink, safety first).
Well, the tow truck guy showed up and offered me his sleeve to wipe my tears and started telling me how he would make $6.00 commission on my misfortune, and Imma like Sleeve, one more time “Six dollars? You should have left me on the side of the road.” And he was like “Wanna ride in my cab?” No dude. Just leave. Honestly. Go. Leave your sleeve though.